


Temperature's Dropping at the Rotten Oasis

by emlary



Category: Oasis (Band)
Genre: Angst, Gallaghercest, M/M, POV Second Person, Song fic (sort of), You have to listen to Who Built The Moon? following the track order
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-14
Updated: 2017-12-14
Packaged: 2019-02-14 18:00:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13013172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emlary/pseuds/emlary
Summary: You wanted to put a completely different song on your new record as a bonus track. It's gonna be the fucking bonus track. "What's the occasion?" David asked. Like you ever needed a reason to write songs for Liam, dozens if not hundreds of songs.Story of Dead In The Water. Title's from Beck's Devil's Haircut.





	Temperature's Dropping at the Rotten Oasis

**Author's Note:**

> I've been listening to Oasis for more than a decade but I'm fairly new to the fandom. Please be gentle with me. Got the idea after listening to Dead In The Water for too many times and [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Iw1R8cbSaIc) and [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1uZumsTMRH4) interview of Noel. All mistakes are mine.

You didn't let David boss around. He's your producer. That's called collaboration if rkid asked, which almost sounded like democracy. Except democracy never worked in a band. He cursed you being a dictator back when you wrote all the songs. You still wrote all the songs of your solo albums, just not every single one was for him. Not any more.

David's reaction was kind of funny. "It's not really part of the thing," he said when he first heard it, arms crossed, looking skeptical, like you were asking for his approval.

No, _totally_ not. 

But remember The Man Who Built The Moon? He said no take after take after take, making you write eight different choruses. _Eight._ He politely turned down your third try with casual comments such as "It sounds like a hybrid of Oasis and High Flying Birds." You'd have been pissed, even offended. But you'd loved it, the way David kept pushing you for something new. 

Otherwise it's too easy. You've been doing it for decades, writing a dozen songs a year with an acoustic guitar while watching the telly or your little brother nagging you to play football with him. Now you spent four fucking months re-writing the chorus for one single song simply because you could afford it. It felt like a relief David finally said yes to your eighth try. Weird huh? When it should have been about passion and excitement. 

Well, it's not the only weird thing he asked you to do. You'd never dreamed of writing a song like She Taught Me How To Fly, "write something you can dance to", to his exact words. Liam refused to dance, he couldn't dance (yet he got all the girls.) So why on earth would you write dance music? Like, ever? You did it because David's words sounded like a challenge and you never backed down from a challenge.

And there's this _scissorist_. You offered tambourine at first (it's not like there's only one person in the world that could play the damn tambourine,) but she said no. French girls, you know. You've been in this industry long enough to know tricks of how to make NME's story of the day without compromising your music. A French girl playing scissors next to Noel Gallagher on stage as a headline is clickbait at its finest. Bullshit later **@liamgallagher** , whoever that persona was, would send three mocking tweets in a row about, was good publicity anyway.

It's all good when the record was finished. Maybe too good. People got comfortable saying what's on their minds even when you didn't look for their "opinions."

You wanted to put a completely different song on your new record as a bonus track. It's gonna be the fucking bonus track.

"What's the occasion?" David asked. Like you ever needed a reason to write songs for Liam, dozens if not hundreds of songs. 

You could tell your brilliant Krautrock-obsessed producer had already started thinking about how to make it fit in this epic music adventure you two pulled out, what kind of electronic sound he could add. It's reasonable though, after twelve joyous, uplifting tracks, this moody, perhaps dark song was the odd one out. You did repeat _crash, rage, die_ and _dead_ in the lyrics. He's gotta do something about that, it's in his job description. 

You made it clear before he'd cross the line for the third time, "No, I'm not gonna record it in the studio. Just use the tape the Dublin guys recorded during the radio session two years ago. I think it's good to go." 

"But…" No, David, no buts.

Dead In The Water couldn't be more Oasis-y when the unspoken tag line of the record was "not being Oasis-y." So what? You didn't give a damn how confusing the message was or what the critics would say.

Was it hypocrite to sing "I've been thinking about the days when we had no money" when you were actually filthy rich? Not really, Johnny Marr still called you wonder boy and your 50th birthday was months ago. 

Writing songs for Liam was the most effortless thing ever. He's in your room and your bed, in your blood and your soul, recent years in your Twitter mentions (a lot.) He's always part of you no matter poor or rich, young or old, hate or love.

And it's not just the song or the lyrics. The tape that was accidentally recorded captured a rare moment. It's totally personal that you just wanted it to yourself, you even shhed the piano guy, who was annoying then but brilliant when you eventually listened to the tape. You never told anyone about the song before, never played it in front of anyone. After playing The Dying Of The Light, you liked the sound in that tiny room set up for the radio session. The live session was over but you were told there's still time, so you start singing again. This time was neither for the audience, nor for Liam because he couldn't be listening.

You sang for yourself.

Funny how your staff referred it as "the song about water" when it's all about the promises you made when both of you were too young and how they were shattered in the storm of everything in real life later. The analogy was so obvious that Liam should be able to understand, for fuck's sake.

The hole where the rain got in, he put it in your head when he first kissed you in the rain after a stupid fight. Then you ran away for a year, the next thing you learned was that your baby brother named his band The Rain, which must be a coincidence. Liam thought you'd gone with a band, that must be what you wanted. But he'd never admit starting his own band was to get you back, in a twisted, Liam Gallagher-ish, way.

He didn't know you left for that shitty job to get as much money as possible. Your trouble-making brother might not be college material but he definitely deserved better. You were doing everything you could to bring him close.

Didn't matter. It turned out you were never that close when Oasis happened and you were never this far away when it all collapsed. To a point you two were not going anywhere, lying dead in the water.

You kept singing, eyes closed, still seeing those funny photographs of him when he's a boy, giving the whole family headaches constantly. Too beautiful to be a dickhead.

You'd not indulge yourself in that moment again. So you went with the old tape, acoustic, nothing fancy. It didn't make sense to your perfectionist producer. But David didn't have to know absolute everything about you to be your producer. That would be creepy.

Plus you didn't talk to the last person who knew absolute everything about you. You sang instead, the alternative way of talking.


End file.
